


A Feeling of Rightness

by OneSmartChicken



Series: Drabbles [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feels, Happy ending though, M/M, coma!stiles, everything's very "if you squint"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:46:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneSmartChicken/pseuds/OneSmartChicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is in a coma.</p><p>He dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Feeling of Rightness

**Author's Note:**

> I sort of...randomly remembered I typed this up at some point. There's no real point to it. Just a random blurb I figured I'd toss out.

Stiles was stuck. He knew he was stuck. Knew he was in the wrong place. But he couldn't remember why that was a bad thing. Everything-- _everything_ seemed so _happy_ and _right_ and _good._ Not perfect; he would have torn apart a perfect world. But everyone was there, which was sort of Stiles' version of perfect. Derek kept touching him, in quiet, soft ways that spoke of a romantic, possibly sexual relationship built on trust and mutual affection. Derek _laughed._ His dad grinned a lot, like he used to, and his mom's laughter filled the Stilinski family home whenever Stiles wasn't at the pack house. Scott and Allison were getting married, and Stiles was pretty sure he had caught Derek looking at jewelers online the other night. He suspected Laura's involvement, and probably Talia's. Sometimes it seemed like the Hale family liked him even more than Derek did. They had accepted him into their lives even easier than they accepted Scott when the rogue alpha bit him, seemingly delighted by the nosey little human tagging along in Scott's wake. Erica had gotten a job at a coffee shop, of all places, recently and Stiles got to go bug her during his lunchbreaks, except Saturdays. Saturdays were father-son days, even if they usually only had time for a meal. The Stilinski men were very busy men. Sunday was pack night. Talia made _everyone_ come, yes even you, Sheriff, don't even try to wriggle out of it. Talia was a good alpha.

_Come on, Stiles, come back, please, oh God..._

Sometimes Stiles found himself in the middle of something without knowing how he got there, except it didn't matter, except to a tiny part of his brain that wouldn't stop screaming. He wasn't sure what that part of his brain's problem was. Wasn't sure if he should ignore it. His dad always said the little details were as important as the big ones though, sometimes even more important, so he couldn't bring himself to dismiss it altogether. He didn't look too closely at it though. The Stilinski men were very busy men, after all. There was a vampire attack while he and the girls and Danny were out having a bachelorette party for Allison and they had to blow some shit up. It was basically the greatest bachelor or bachelorette party ever, as could be expected considering there were explosions, half-naked men and women, and the realization that vampires were totally real suck it Derek. Derek totally did suck it too. Very, very efficiently. Stiles really appreciated that.

_I don't know what to do, Claudia._

There was a bank robber. Stiles talked him into having coffee with him instead, platonically of course, and Derek yelled at him for being ridiculously clever which was incredibly unfair. His mate was kind of a dick. They sent the would-be robber holiday cards and told him he should come to the Hale Christmas party when he got out. His name was Joe. He was pretty nice.

_Mom took your dad's alcohol, Stiles. Don't worry, we'll look after him. You know we will. But please, Stiles..._

Some days it felt like someone was looming over him, lurking in the background. Staring. Incessant, persistent, _intense_ staring. He accused Derek of falling back on his creeper wolf habits, and he smirked. He couldn't leave his mate unprotected, he pointed out. Stiles trapped him with mountain ash until he promised not to be a creeper wolf, but the staring didn't stop. It should have felt uncomfortable. It should have scared him. He should definitely have told Talia. But instead it just made him feel oddly...safe. And kind of itchy. Like he was stuck. Like things were wrong. But things seemed so right.

_Derek's losing it, Stiles. If you had seen him...you would have blown up at him. I probably should have, but...Him and Scott. They're just at each other's throats. All the time. It's horrible. Stiles._

Stiles taught Lydia how to make Stilinski-style pancakes(the best pancakes in the world) and his mom laughed, said Stiles was still trying to woo Lydia even though he had a mate. Of course he was. Lydia was brilliant and perfect and wonderful and she was going to rule the world one day and when that day came they were going to be family so the Stilinskis would live in luxury and wouldn't they be thankful for Stiles' wooing skills then? Lydia learned fast. Lydia was a genius, of course she learned fast. But Stiles could have sworn that Lydia couldn't cook worth a damn no matter how many recipes she tried, and didn't really want to learn anyway. Stiles started to miss the staring whenever it went away.

_We miss you._

Stiles was all wrapped up in cotton. He was fuzzy and wrong and even though life kept moving on around him it seemed like he wasn't moving with it, except then his perspective would jump and he would suddenly be caught up. Everyone kept touching Erica's tummy. It had a little bump. Stiles loved that bump. Derek loved that bump. Stiles wanted to cry. The staring was coming less often. But it felt so much more intense.

_I need you._

Stiles opened her eyes. The ceiling was white. His and Derek's room had a blue ceiling, because Laura decided all the ceilings in the house needed to be painted because white was boring, and Stiles and Derek both agreed that they liked the color of the sky quite a bit, and since most of their room was brown, Laura decided this was an acceptable color choice. Talia had laughed at them for being so completely under Laura's thumb, but Talia's ceiling was yellow so she really had no place to stand.

But Laura was dead. As was Talia. And Erica. And Boyd.

Stiles sat up slowly, eyes casting down to take in needles and tubes and monitors. His spine bent, whining about the mother of all cricks, but Stiles didn't even notice.

Mom.

His eyes closed of their own accord, but he wasn't worried about falling back to sleep. He was too busy sobbing for that. He buried his face in his hands, bowing further so it didn't make the stupid IV pinch, and wept in great, broken-hearted heaves that came straight from his core. Eventually the door opened, and then his dad was there, and he was burrowing into his arms to stifle his wails in that warm, familiar shoulder. He stroked his shorn hair and crooned and cried and whispered to him in a worried tone that was full of awe.

He was still holding his dad's hand when he fell back to sleep.

When he woke again, his room was full of pack, and he made himself sit up so everyone could hug him and rejoice. They kept petting him, scentmarking him stubbornly despite the fact he wouldn't actually be leaving the hospital and its offensive smells for a few days yet. Derek wasn't there. But he wasn't worried. He knew his mate. Even if they weren't really mates, not here, outside of fantasies. He was pretty sure that was more than wishful thinking though.

He showed up after hours, after everyone had been chased off, even the sheriff; Melissa came and forced him to go home and sleep. Stiles stared at Derek's stupid broody face, at his slightly wide eyes. Stiles huffed.

"I need you too," he stated. And then everything wasn't okay, wasn't happy and bright and wonderful. But even so, it was right.


End file.
